


Skyward

by morkfrompork



Category: Frasier (TV), MASH (TV)
Genre: Crossover, This might have happened, takes place around 1993
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morkfrompork/pseuds/morkfrompork
Summary: Based on this tumblr post: https://toast-coaster.tumblr.com/post/641417661778100224As vaguely-psychic Daphne begins to work her way through the US, she ends up in St. Louis and goes on a job interview with a gentleman she has more in common with than she could have expected.
Kudos: 7





	Skyward

There had been so many things to feel different about while growing up. Daphne was the only girl in the family besides her mum, the youngest of nine children and the only one who’d found any success outside of the family business. That and her little ‘gift’, as Granny Moon put it. It had given her brothers so much ammunition to tease and torment her over. Sometimes, the only place in the world that felt safe was inside her Granny’s arms. She’d stay there for hours, deep into the evening, after the sun had gone down and the moon had come out. 

“It’s where your gift comes from, wee one. Where mine does, too. Whenever you feel lonely, look skyward; the Moon watches over all her children,” Granny would explain. After she passed away, it was the moon who offered Daphne comfort. 

The loneliness had always been painful, but after leaving Manchester for the States, it felt much worse. She’d no one to tell about her visions. Every friend she attempted to make already saw her as strange and definitely never believed her stories. Of seeing memories that didn’t belong to her, things that hadn’t yet occurred, even things that were happening that very moment somewhere in the world. Daphne was never sure which one it was. 

One particular vision played in her mind frequently. Sometimes a few times a week, other times a year or more would go by without her thinking of it. Granny Moon was certain it was someone’s memory, but had no guesses as to who it belonged to. Daphne didn’t recognize the man in the vision, although she suspected she might like to know him someday. He was tall and dressed head to toe in a surgical outfit. The area around him was fuzzy and he was standing on the other side of a window, looking very wistful towards her. After a few moments, he would lift his gloved right hand and salute, blood coating his fingers. The vision would always end there, no matter how hard Daphne would concentrate on continuing it. 

Why did he look so upset?

Why were his hands covered in blood?

Why the salute?

She found the vision was happening far more frequently after she moved. And even more so when her vagabonding brought her to St. Louis. Odd jobs had helped her get across the country and working as a convenience store clerk got her licensed as a physical therapist. It had been long, slow work, but eventually, she was in a place in life where she was making halfway decent money, generally had a steady place to live, and she was helping people. It was all she wanted in life, for the most part. All that was left was to settle down with someone and figure out whose memory she’d been intruding on all these years.

The unfortunate part about her line of work was that most of the people she worked with were getting on in years and physically impaired somehow. It didn’t give them a very long lifespan and as a result, every funeral Daphne attended meant she was going to have to watch her spending until the agency found her a new client.

It had been nearly three weeks of no work when she finally got the call. A freshly-retired police officer had contacted the agency requesting someone to come over for an interview as soon as possible. Daphne was at the address within the hour.

The sounds of what she expected to be a zoo answered the rung doorbell and shortly afterwards, the door opened. Daphne judged the man on the other side to be at least half a foot shorter than her, even though it felt exaggerated by her high heels and his slight stoop over a cane that she suspected he wasn’t quite used to yet.

“Mr. O’Reilly? I’m Daphne Moon, from the physical therapy agency,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

“Of course, ma’am- uh, miss, I suppose. Come right in.” He took a few steps back to let her past. Daphne took a few moments to look around the room, to see how much she could deduce about this man. The apartment looked fairly small, and felt even smaller with the cages of animals sitting on what felt like every available surface. Rabbits, guinea pigs, birds, mice, even a turtle. A bachelor; but by which circumstances, she wasn’t sure. A picture of what looked like a younger version of him with an older woman hung on the wall, likely his mother. No photos of children, which led her to suspect either unmarried or divorced many years ago. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He asked, shaking Daphne from her snooping.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Well, gee, I… wait, I think I may still have some from when Ma and Alice came to visit…” he mumbled, mostly to himself as he crossed the small living room to where Daphne assumed the kitchen was. Her training had taught her not to interfere with a client unless they were visibly struggling, but being raised as a secondary mother to eight brothers had taught her to always help out in the kitchen. 

As it turned out, Mr. O’Reilly didn’t need much help in the kitchen. She might have to teach him how to prepare a cup of tea, but as long as she was the guest, she wasn’t planning on criticising his technique. Even if he did prepare it in the microwave. He seemed much more adept at unscrewing the cap off of a bottle of violently purple soda for himself.

“So how can I help you, Mr. O’Reilly?” She asked, taking her mug to the coffee table in the middle of the room. 

“You see, I, uh, I’ve been a cop for 39 years. I fell during a chase a few weeks back and broke my leg pretty bad. It’s better now, but not really the same. They said I should retire a few years early and take it easy. I just need someone to give me a hand sometimes. I can handle myself pretty good, but, uh…” His bespectacled gaze drifted down to his left side. His leg was obviously troublesome for him, and she suspected that his hand wasn’t much easier. 

“Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well, I’m from Manchester, England. I’ve only been in the States a little while, but I was certified in home care and physical therapy for nearly a decade back home. I-” Daphne paused a moment and looked Mr. O’Reilly up and down. “You were in the army, weren’t you?”  
Mr. O’Reilly looked quietly stunned and Daphne began kicking herself. Why did she have to say anything? There was no chance he was going to pick her now, and she was just going to have to wait for the next call.

“How did you know?” He asked, his voice small. Daphne wasn’t sure if she’d struck a nerve or if he was just stunned. Best to continue with caution.

“I… well, I sensed it off you. Sometimes I’m able to sense things about people, get little visions of things that have happened or things to come. My Granny Moon said every second generation of the family was a bit psychic.”

“No kidding?” Mr. O’Reilly grinned. “I’m the same way! Well, I don’t think it runs in the family, but I didn’t know my Dad.”

It was Daphne’s turn to be taken aback. All this time, she thought it had been just her and Granny Moon against the world. 

“Well, there are a lot of people in the world. Impossible to know all of them,” Mr. O’Reilly pointed out. Almost as if he’d read her thoughts. 

“How did you-”

“Know that? I, um, sometimes I know things before they happen. It’s why the guys used to call me Radar.” 

“They don’t anymore?”

“I haven’t seen them since… well, since Sandy and I got married. 40 years ago, I think. Of course, that was just Colonel Potter and Klinger and Father Mulcahy. I haven’t seen the rest since Korea…”

“Where did you serve, if you don’t mind me asking? Granny Moon was a nurse in Korea.”

“4077th MASH. That’s ‘mobile army surgical hospital’.”

Hospital.

Surgeons.

Blood.

A fellow psychic.

No, there was no way.

“Pardon me for asking, but did you know a man there? Surgeon, I think. A very tall gentleman with dark hair and bright eyes?”

Mr. O’Reilly furrowed his brow thoughtfully. His last memory of that man was one of the only things he’d allow himself to recollect about his days in the army.

“I did. Why?”

“Did he salute you?”

“Only once.”

“Who was he?”

Mr. O’Reilly sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. For a moment, he was 18 years old again, sitting in olive green drab, surrounded by the people he’d gotten closest to in life and laughing. In the middle of it all was Hawkeye.

“The greatest man I ever knew.”


End file.
